Raw

I went to a funeral of a 25 year-old father of two today. His wife is a friend of mine, and they had been battling his leukemia off and on for 3 years. They ardently believed that they had a word from God, that this sickness would not end in death. So on top of the loss of his life, is the disillusionment of not having received the outcome they felt they had been promised.

I couldn't stop crying at the funeral. "You of all people should know that he is in a better place," my friend softly chastised me. But I wasn't crying for him, I was crying for them.
His 2 year-old son blew kisses to him in his casket, waved, "Goodbye daddy." His 8 year-old stepson had climbed into his uncles' lap and was crying. And how would their mom explain to the little one, why daddy couldn't be there, and to the older one, how God could've healed daddy, as they'd assured him He would, but had somehow chosen not to. It was painful to witness.

The pastor's words were comforting and challenging. He said they had believed God could heal him, and had asked him too, while at the same time praying, not our will, but Yours be done. Blake had seen himself in a win/win situation. "Either God makes me well, or He takes me home." I've been contemplating how we are to pray with assurance, and claim God's promises, while remaining surrendered to His will. And how to share in another's grief without allowing it to eclipse one's hope and inhibit one's ability to cope.